


Simple Pleasures

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [35]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan wants to make their relationship more intimate. Solas is uncertain how to respond.<br/>Note: I rated this Teen and up due to the non-graphic nature of the scene, but it does directly address sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Pleasures

The plaster was laid thin, his hand steady as he added the layers of pigment. This portion was nearly complete, the jagged rocks of the Fade emerging under his paintbrush. The experience at Adamant, walking physically through the Fade; it had not been what he expected. Time and the Veil had done much to change things. It felt soothing to create these murals. Quiet. Practiced. There was something pleasurable in manipulating the movement of the brush, the intensity of the pigment, staining the plaster to create the narrative of his choosing. He could tell the tale as he wished it; reflect the truth in the shape he preferred.

There was a certain freedom in that.

Archivist Banon had seemed perplexed by his actions when he had begun the process. He accepted that to some this may seem a frivolous waste of time and resources. This was his form of record-keeping, as it had been done centuries before. The written word could not stand the test of time. Languages die. Parchment is fragile. But this – this would last as long as Skyhold stood its ground. Even painted over, the stone would remember. He wanted to create a record worthy of her. A way to preserve her, so that centuries from now some wanderer may look upon these walls and know of her presence. Many had wondered when he found time to complete the images, given his frequent travels with Inquisitor Lavellan. He made time for it, pieced the images together in sections, allowed himself moments of quiet reflection while he worked. He appreciated the solitude. It gave him time to think.

“I missed you at the game tonight.”

Her voice. The sudden lack of silence. It had always surprised him how lightly she could move on her feet, as if never making contact with the ground. He often wondered if her clan missed her skills as a hunter. They probably never appreciated that she could be so much more than that. Her understanding of magic, her willingness to learn, her measured grace as a leader – these were all traits he was certain the Dalish would not have valued enough to allow to flourish. He shifted in his chair, glancing over his shoulder as she lowered herself from the last stone step.

“I assume Varric did offer an invitation.” She continued.

“Yes.” He said flatly, dipping his brush and returning his attention to the wall. “You had a good time, I take it?”

She hummed in agreement, crossing the room to rest her hands on the back of his chair. “It made for an interesting evening, certainly. Very telling of some of our companions. The more drinks he gets in him, the more eager Bull is to take uncalculated but enthusiastic risks. Dorian believes he is sly, but his face is full of tells. Josephine is a far better player than she lets on and Cullen is easy to take for all he’s worth.” She laughed brightly. “You should have seen him. Bet the clothes right off of his back. He looked horrified once Josie laid her cards on the table and made him honor the wager. Poor thing had to strip. You should have heard the way Bull and Dorian were sniggering. The man was blushing to his navel. I’m certain his run back to the barracks was brisk, to say the least.”

“That is certainly an image I’d prefer not to dwell on.”

She kissed the top of his head. “You should have come.” She said, an affectionate lilt to her voice. “Blackwall tells me you’re quite accomplished at card games. I would have loved to see you at the table with Josie. I’d imagine you’re far more skilled at bluffing.”

_You have no idea, ma vhenan._

“I wanted to finish my work here.” He said calmly, daubing at the wall. “I preferred to have some time to myself.”

“Oh?” She murmured, lowering herself behind him, languidly draping her arms across his collarbone. “Does that mean I should leave you alone?” There was a teasing pout hidden in her voice that forced his lips to curl.

“No.” He answered, continuing to paint. “I simply had no desire for such distractions.”

Her face dipped close to his neck, her breath on his skin as she spoke. “I was actually hoping I could distract you tonight.” She purred before nipping at his ear, her lips hot against the tip before her teeth scraped against it.

_Oh._

He allowed his eyes to close as she nuzzled against his collar, kissing and biting a slow trail down his neck. The warmth of her made his blood sing, a thrilling and foreign eagerness that she alone could elicit from him. She laughed softly, the intoxicating sound rumbling across his skin. “You might want to move your brush.”

He opened his eyes, not realizing he had frozen in place mid-stroke. There was a stain in the plaster where the bristles had lingered too long. He swallowed hard, finding it difficult to clear his throat.

“I should finish this before the plaster sets.” He said, subtly shrugging her away from his neck.

The warm and steady weight of her arms remained. “I’m sure you can work on it later.”

“I take it you are not familiar with the process of making a fresco.”

When she withdrew her embrace, he felt like he could suddenly breathe again. He dipped the brush, preparing to fix his error when he felt his chair being roughly tugged backward, his knees drawn away from the wall. He let out a grunted objection, nearly spilling the pigment as he clutched the glass jar in hand. She slid herself in front of him, her long and nimble fingers taking the jar and brush from him. “I think you need to reevaluate your priorities, ma sa'lath.” She cooed, stooping down to set his tools on the floor beside him. She rested her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning forward to kiss him.

He had learned to read her through the qualities of her affections. Most of her kisses were playful. Flirtatious. Nipping teeth and a teasing tongue. Pulling back enough to feel his mouth try to follow her before returning to him. She would smile and hum and laugh as she cupped his cheeks or wrapped her arms around him. The sounds she made would provoke him, make him want to chase after her, to hold her tighter and control the depth of her kiss. This was the goal of her game, to relish his desire for her, to draw him further from his controlled reserve. Maybe she didn’t truly know the power she had over him. She overwhelmed his senses with her touch, sent a rush through him that allowed him to ignore the voice telling him he should stop.

This kiss was a slow building tempest. Her gentle teasing became a hungry demand and he could not help but melt against it. She slipped herself into his lap and his arms instinctively found her waist. This elf, this tiny slip of a mortal, so sweet and calculating and passionate and open. He was under her sway. If she had not kissed him that night in the Fade, maybe he would have been able to keep his fascination at a distance. But once given the opening, he had fallen into it, wanton and foolish.

She pulled away from his mouth, forcefully nudging his jaw with her own to return her lips to his neck. “I want you.” She murmured against his flesh, causing his breath to hitch. “Not here, though. Unless you are far more daring than I took you for.” She added with a laugh. Another nip to his ear and he was swallowing hard. Her meaning was clear. So far, their intimacy had not moved further than passionate embraces and the occasional wandering hand. She wanted more. There was an unrelenting and terrifying thrill at the thought of taking her. He wanted to and she was more than willing. “Can I steal you away to my quarters?”

She sat back, looking into his face. She was waiting for his answer.

No.

No, he couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t. He had allowed this to go farther than he had ever intended in his selfish desire for her. He wanted to let go, to ignore the consequences, to give her everything she wanted in that moment even knowing how it would hurt her later. It would be cruel. He didn’t know how he could live with himself knowing that she would think back on tonight with regret.

She could see his hesitation. Her head tilted slightly, her eyebrows lifting. She was expecting his enthusiasm and he hated to disappoint her. “It’s not that I don’t want to-”

She grinned, lowering more of her weight against his lap. “That much is obvious.” His hands caught her hips as she pressed herself against him. He was grasping for something to say, some way to tell her no without it sounding like he was rejecting her. To him, she was perfect. Had she not been, he never would have risked getting so close.

She saved him then, placing a hand to his cheek. “You want to take things a little slower?”

No. He didn’t. He wanted her now. He wanted to see her, all of her, to surrender to her whims, to lose himself inside her, to know what she sounded like when…

He forced himself to nod. If she was disappointed, she hid it well. She smiled sweetly, kissing his forehead, nuzzling the tip of her nose against his own. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She purred, kissing him once again on the lips. This one was short and final, a chaste goodbye as she slid off of his lap. “Goodnight, ma vhenan'ara.”

He mirrored the farewell, watching her as she slipped quietly past the door.

He had to end it.

He knew the time would come, eventually. He had spent weeks trying to plan what he would say to her. Each time he saw her, these plans simply fell away. Another time, he would tell himself. Not today. Let me enjoy her a little while longer. But he knew it would not be long before she had to face Corypheus again. The morbid thought had crossed his mind that, should she die, he should let her go without a reason to doubt the honesty of his love for her. But no. She would live. She had to. The thought that she would be defeated destroyed him, tore at him. He feared that more than anything now; losing her, being alone, being without her. But once he had the orb, when he could continue with his mission – it would take him down a path that he doubted she would want to follow, even if she could. He could imagine the look on her face, the horror at learning who he was. All those years of stories, just stories, lies mixed with half-truths the Dalish had told her of him. She would never look at him the same way. How could she? They called him the Lord of Tricksters. How could she not think that all of this was a lie? A trick? Some way to use her to get what he wanted? How could he ever convince her that he gained nothing and lost everything in giving his heart to her?

He would tell her, eventually. He needed to get the orb first. It was the reason he was here, the reason he’d joined the Inquisition. He could not risk it falling into someone else’s hands. Not again. If he told her the truth now, she would not trust him to take the artifact. It was the key to all of this.

He had allowed himself to get too close. It complicated things. He loved her and wanted her too much to trust himself to say no the next time she tried to take him to her bed. He didn’t want to hurt her, but this was too important. He had to fix his mistakes.

This would have to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> ma vhenan - my heart
> 
> ma sa'lath - my one love
> 
> ma vhenan'ara - my heart's desire
> 
> ***
> 
> Feel free to find me over at geeky-jez.tumblr.com!


End file.
